


after the war

by the_problem_with_stardust



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Drabble, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Prompt Art, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Reunions, Soldier Stiles Stilinski, Tumblr Prompt, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 10:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15459429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_problem_with_stardust/pseuds/the_problem_with_stardust
Summary: prompt fill for #9. war's end kiss





	after the war

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alter_antarctica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alter_antarctica/gifts).



> For the lovely minus-moscow who requested #9. war's end kiss

It’s late, but Stiles knows these woods like the back of his hand. Probably even better than that, seeing how he’s acquired several new scars over the past year and a half. The leaves rustle under his heavy boots and he feels himself start to relax for the first time since the war started.

Home was never a concept Stiles understood. Well, maybe back when his mother was alive. After she died, the house he grew up in lost that feeling. So Stiles spent his youth drifting, feeling rootless and unanchored, never quite belonging. Until he met Derek. It took time, but as Stiles approaches the house nestled far from the road, he can’t help but think that _this_ is what home feels like.

Despite the late hour, there is a light burning in the kitchen. It spills, warm and inviting, across the clearing floor and Stiles hesitates. It’s been one year, five months, and four days since he last saw Derek.  Five hundred and twenty-one days in total. There had been letters at the start of the war, but during the final months Stiles was behind enemy lines and had no way of even letting Derek know he was still alive.

Then it had been a rush of medical evaluations and discharge paperwork and frenzied troop convoys. Stiles doesn’t even know if California still has working telephones. Most likely not, since the blackout affected the entire northern hemisphere.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles walks up the wooden stairs and onto the porch that he and Derek had built that last summer, when everything was still bright and hopeful. He sets a hand on the doorknob, remembering Derek’s laugh when he’d griped about locking the door before bed.

 _No one will come this far from the road,_ he’d insisted. _Plus, I’d be ready for them before they even reached the tree line._

And with that memory in mind, Stiles steels himself and turns the knob. Just as he’d expected – just as he’d _hoped_ – the door swings inward. Stiles may have changed a lot in his time away, but he’s relieved to find that Derek has retained at least one of his bad habits.

“Hands where I can see them,” a familiar voice growls and Stiles freezes.

Even in the dim lighting, he can see Derek’s eyes go wide in shock. The gun in his hand drops to the floor and Stiles wants to roll his eyes. The idiot hadn’t even taken the safety off.

But then he has an armful of alpha werewolf, Derek squeezing him tight as if he’s afraid Stiles is going to vanish before his eyes.

“Easy on the ribs, big guy,” Stiles says, though he makes no move to free himself, just slides one arm around Derek’s back and strokes the other through his soft hair.

Derek hums contentedly at the touch, pausing his scenting to suck a bruise onto Stiles’ throat. All of a sudden, it’s a frantic push and pull of limbs as they drag each other down the hall. Derek keeps stopping to burying his face in Stiles’ neck and Stiles loses his duffle at some point; then they’re falling onto a soft mattress that smells like their homemade detergent and Derek’s fancy soap.

Derek stares at him until Stiles gets uncomfortable, turning his face toward the windows. He isn’t the same person who left this house a year and a half ago. There are frown lines carved into his forehead and crinkles around his eyes from squinting too much. Bits of shrapnel left twisted scar tissue behind and chemical burns cover the majority of his lower legs.

But Derek doesn’t seem to notice any of that. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispers, as if saying the words too loudly will shatter the dream.

Stiles pushes away the dark thoughts, filing them alongside the memory of a thick stack of letters currently taking up too much space in his duffle. “I am here, Derek. I promised I’d come home.”

At that, the disbelief and worry fade from Derek’s expression, leaving nothing behind but pure joy. Stiles smiles back and finally, _finally_ , Derek leans in and kisses him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> rebloggable tumblr link is [HERE!](https://theproblemwithstardust.tumblr.com/post/176357505415/oh-man-9-wars-end-kiss)
> 
> you can request a drabble and edit from [THIS LIST!](https://theproblemwithstardust.tumblr.com/post/176225154738/kiss-meme)


End file.
